The Boy Who Painted His World
by BaronessBlixen
Summary: A stranger watches a scene between David and his family. Post-series. AU. Rating is just to be safe. One-shot.


**The Boy Who Painted His World**

**A/N: **I just wanted you to know it's a different kind of story. I hope you give it a chance, cause I really felt like writing it. Reviews are always appreciated – even if you hated it.

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I was hungry. The only reason I went to this particular restaurant was because I was starving. Usually I don't go there. I hate this place. Now I think it was fate that I did. The day had been terrible. I had gotten up late, I hadn't had breakfast – hence the fear of starvation later on. My girlfriend had broken up with me cause she suspected I had been cheating. To be honest, I had. No matter how much I tried to convince her I was the most honest person in the world, she wouldn't believe me. All day I kept trying to stay out of trouble, but I guess that's not me. Around 5 pm I was so hungry I had to go to this dreadful place. The moment I entered I realized my stupidity. All those little kids were running around, high on whatever they put into this food. As screwed up as I am, I eat healthy. It's the only healthy thing I do. I can't deny that I do get drunk a lot. I've taken drugs once or twice. But always, on principle, I eat healthy. Driving around, this world wide popular food chain had been the only thing I could find. How was I to know it would change my whole life?

The place was loud. Many children ran around as if they owned the place. It took me a while to find a space that was not as crowded. I started eating fast cause all I really wanted was to get out again. The food was bad, which I had expected of course. I couldn't look at it; it made me sick. So I sat there and looked at the children. My ex had always wanted kids. I didn't. Staring at these miniature people, roaring and causing all kinds of terror I remembered why. My eyes landed on a boy in a corner. There was no particular reason why I looked at him. Maybe because unlike the others, he actually sat still. My eyes must have liked that. Objectively he was a cute child. I could see beauty in children without having to like them. His hair was blond and reminded me of an angel. Those angels you see at Christmas. The small, childish cherubs with blond hair that looks like molten gold and eyes so blue you know you could drown in them if you only tried. It was that kind of child. Normally those were the worst. The cuter a child looks, the more of a terrorist it is. I have plenty of cousins, I know what I'm talking about. Not this boy. It was coincidence that I had looked at him. I couldn't look away anymore.

There was something about him. A small smile played around his lips, even though he wasn't doing anything. It seemed as if there was a happiness inside of him that I had never known. His hair fell over his forehead and he kept trying to tuck it behind his ear, but it didn't work. If all children were like that… I didn't finish the thought. The food in my mouth was stale, but I no longer tasted it. That kid fascinated me immensely. I wondered if he was alone there. I didn't see his parents. There was an older man close by with a young woman who must have been his nurse or something. She was definitely younger than him. I didn't think they belonged together, at least not at first. I watched the boy like a hawk. If he was all alone there, someone had to look out for him. I felt like it excused me eating this food. I was doing something good as well. He didn't have any toys with him and I wondered how he could be so still, so content with just himself. I tried to guess his age and he couldn't have been older than four or five. Why would parents leave such a small kid all alone in a place like this? An angelic kid like that should be taken care of.

At first I thought he was deaf. He started using his hands, making gestures I did not understand. I do know some sign language, like the apparently useless I love you, but it wasn't enough to understand a small child trying to communicate. I almost forgot to eat, because of the boy. I didn't want to look like some pervert, or a mad man, but I couldn't just let him be. Finally, I noticed how he didn't just make random gestures in the air. He was directing them at the old man I had seen earlier. The younger woman was on the phone, but occasionally smiled at the small boy which made me wonder if she was his mother after all. A wave of disgust overcame me as I thought the old man could be the father. The boy looked happy. That elusive smile was still on his face. He used his index finger as a pen, or a paint brush. He wasn't using sign language after all, he was painting something. I almost choked because I forgot to swallow. The boy didn't notice. He was caught up in his art, in his picture. I tried to find out what it was he painted and thought it was something in his head only. It wasn't for anyone to find out.

"A whale!" the old man exclaimed from the other side of the room, disrupting my moment. It was as if reality had returned to his place after the boy had taken me somewhere else. I directed my eyes at the old man, who was grinning broadly. The woman was still on the phone, but had put her hand on the man's arm. She was definitely more than just a nurse.

"Grandpa, no." Relief filled me. He was his grandfather, not his father. Somehow it seemed important to me to know that. The boy's voice sounded like a sigh. As if he was about to explain something he had explained many, many times before.

"You're supposed to answer in a picture!" The boy told him, still from across the room. He didn't leave his place. Neither of them seemed to acknowledge me sitting so close, in the middle of them. Just observing the whole scene, it seemed unreal.

"Gee, David. You know I'm not as good as you." The young child sighed audibly. Still, the smile never left his face. He started painting again. This time he used both hands. I could see it. I saw the picture he was showing us as if it were on a real canvas. My mouth was full, but I wanted to yell it out. No words came. They were all in my head. A house! I yelled there silently. A big tree! A family.

This time the old man did what he was supposed to do. Uncertainly he used to his hand to draw something into the sky. He looked around, almost embarrassed and drew… a heart. My own broke. I had never seen anything like that. The boy laughed a beautiful, angelic sound that I couldn't remember hearing before. It was such a different noise and not at all like the sounds all those other children made. The squeaking, screaming sounds that try to destroy you. The boy, whose name was David, didn't make them. He was different. I wanted to know what all of this meant. In that moment I realized that they were a family with a way of communicating amongst them, something that belonged just to them. It made me sad. I didn't have anything like that. I didn't let other people close enough to share such intimacy.

"You couldn't have picked a worse place, dad." I knew without a doubt that the man and the woman were the boy's parents. They appeared out of nowhere and the woman gently ran her fingers through the child's hair, walking towards the old man and the lady.

"You can't feed a child all that fancy food and not expect him to want something like this."

"Fast food is not-" the father, who looked a lot like his son with the same face, hair and eyes, was not allowed to finish his sentence.

"Martin is right, Niles." The woman was the kind you knew was a good mother. There was an inenarrable kindness and warmth about her that made me want to be a child again. Her smile was the same that played around the boy's lips. David's dad, Niles, touched her back without apparent reason. My parents had never just touched each other so lovingly. They smiled at each other and looked like a young couple who had recently fallen in love. My jealously made me sick. I had never known such happiness, such love.

"Dad, dad, look!" David yelled. Everyone turned to him, his parents holding hands like teenagers. The lady was no longer on the phone but watched with wonderment. I knew at that moment that this was something new for her as well. She hadn't known this in her youth either. This love. She was still trying to fit in. She put her head on the old man's shoulder, knowing she belonged there. David, obviously used to being the center of attention, drew a quick picture into the sky. It was a bike. Everyone laughed as David just grinned. I knew they would get him a bike, I just knew it.

"Come over here, Picasso." His grandpa said. David ran over to the table where his family waited for him. He sat on his father's lap and just like that I was no longer part of all of this. I felt left out. This wasn't my family, but watching them I felt like… I felt like everyone, including me, should have this. I had finished my meal. The starving feeling had disappeared. I was about to get up when David's parents walked over to where their son had been a moment ago. I hadn't noticed before but a small child's jacket lay there, abandoned and forgotten.

"Don't you think we should tell them?"

"I can't tell my family we're having another baby at a place like this, Daphne. I was thinking a fancy restaurant, not some fast food joint."

"Does it really matter?"

"I hope that's a rhetorical question." The woman – Daphne – smiled at him. I wondered if they saw me there, so close to them. I was one of the first people to know about their baby. I was just a stranger, I didn't count.

"Look at him." She was talking to the man named Niles, but I looked, too. At their son. He was babbling happily, using his hands vividly. I could still see the picture he had painted earlier. It was etched in my head like a memory, like a vision.

"I love you, Daphne. You gave me David, you're giving me another… I never thought I-" His voice broke. Daphne hugged him quickly. I thought I saw tears in her eyes, but really she wasn't close enough for me to see.

"Shh. It's not like I could have done it without you." She smiled mischievously at her husband.

"I love you." Niles said and this had to be the feeling my ex always got when she watched those cheesy romantic movies. I couldn't believe they didn't see me gawk at them. They were so much in love they didn't see anyone else.

"I love you, too. Now come on and explain to our son why I'll be the one to teach him how to ride a bike."

I didn't hear anything else. Their conversation was suddenly a whole lot quieter. Before I left, I watched the boy who painted his own world. A perfect world, I could tell. Outside, I suddenly missed them. I missed the feeling they had given me. I knew I wanted that; whatever they had, I wanted it, too. I searched for my phone and called the ex. If she didn't give me another chance, I wanted her to know about that boy. The things he had made me see.

**END**


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